


An Understanding

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Asexual Arthur, Asexual Awareness Week, Asexual Merlin, Asexuality, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince and a warlock with very different pasts but with similar inclinations – or, rather, lack of inclinations – find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Asexual Awareness Week 2014. I've always wanted to write an ace fic, and this was the perfect opportunity. I just really wanted to explore the way I think Merlin and Arthur would be if they fell within the spectrum, as well as write about the topic of asexuality; granted, I have my own theories regarding the show canon, but I won't go into those here/now.
> 
> (also, as always, M is a saint for putting up with my writing and I thank her immensely)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Merlin never really thought it strange until he was thirteen and the Beltane fires were roaring. William came up to him with a tankard of rancid ale and leaned against the fence with Merlin, watching everyone dance.

“Gods above. Look at her _breasts_ , Merlin! They’re magical,” Will gushed. Merlin flinched at the use of _magic_ so lightly, but he knew Will wasn’t doing it on purpose. He was also quite on his way to drunk. That much was obvious, even in the dim firelight.

“You’re not even watching!” Will whined.

Merlin followed his line of sight to where Evelyn danced happily, drawing the eyes of almost every man and boy in Ealdor as she hopped the flames. Merlin watched a while, but he lost interest quickly.

“Merlin, what the hell?” he exclaimed. He sounded almost offended, which only confused Merlin more.

“Just going in to see if mum needs anything,” he said hurriedly.

Will let go of his shirt. Merlin hobbled back to their home where Hunith was preparing for bed.

“You look troubled, Merlin,” said she said, looking up when he walked in.

“It’s nothing.”

He didn’t go back out.

* * *

Will gave him a hard time for it a couple of days later, but Merlin brushed it off. There’d been more and more talk from Will of girls and their features lately.

“You don’t look like you care very much,” Will said after about a month of talking about Evelyn’s chest with hearts in his eyes and twitchy hands.

Merlin shrugged.

“She not your type then?” Will asked, shuffling closer. Merlin turned away to pick up more firewood. “Like ‘em, what, blonde? Thinner? Maybe… with a cock?”

Merlin almost dropped all his firewood. He didn’t turn around, so Will didn’t see the frown on his face.

“Didn’t cross my mind either,” he muttered. Will circled around him, a wild and confused look on his face.

“Mate. Really? Didn’t cross your mind _either?_ ”

“I—”

“I don’t give a pig shit what’s going on in that head of yours, Merls, but people are going to notice, and if you think they don’t like you and your mum already, and then there’s the bloody _magic_ —”

“No one’s going to know what’s going on in my head, Will! Let it go!” Merlin snapped.

“I’m looking out for you here,” said Will, frowning now. “People noticed you didn’t stay.”

“Really?” Merlin asked, his heart rate jumping.

Will nodded. “Simmons even asked me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So… I dunno. Make it work. You make the magic work, right? Make this work too.”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Merls. Those girls’ fathers? They’re already starting to knock, looking to marry off their daughters. If you get saddled to one, and they don’t – y’know. You’ve gotta be able to make it work.”

Merlin bit his lip and picked up the firewood he’d dropped.

“I’ll be fine, Will.”

“Yeah,” Will sighed. “You say that now.”

* * *

Will was pretty damn wrong for a solid six years. Merlin managed just fine. He befriended a few girls in town over that time, but nothing more than occasionally helping them or their families with chores or physical tasks. He brought his mother’s bread to everyone who wanted it. No fathers ever came knocking at their door, seeking an arrangement with Merlin and Hunith. Hunith was unsurprised, but when she asked how he felt about it, Merlin simply kissed the top of her head and told her it was more than fine.

He walked in on Will with his hands down his trousers in the woods one day when they were seventeen. What struck Merlin was the way he seemed to _enjoy_ it, in a way Merlin never really did. He’d only ever taken himself in hand when he felt too much time had passed since the last time, or perhaps he was feeling particularly stressed and needed his body to relax more quickly than it was willing.

“Oh, it’s you,” Will said, eyes opening at the sound of Merlin crunching through the dead leaves. He didn’t even bother hiding himself. “You gonna just stand there?”

“No,” Merlin huffed. Will waited until Merlin sat down across from him.

“What’s wrong now?” Will sighed.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Evelyn,” he said immediately.

“She’s been married to Edward for over a year, Will,” Merlin said. “She’s got a babe on her breast now.”

“Doesn’t matter. Still a gorgeous breast,” Will said with a dazed smile. His hand started moving over his cock again. His head dropped back against the tree. “Why? Not what you—?”

“No,” Merlin replied. “I don’t think of anything.”

“Really?” Will asked, surprised. His hand didn’t stop. Merlin was curiously transfixed, and very glad Will chose to keep his eyes closed, probably engrossed in a well-established fantasy. “That’s weird.”

Merlin didn’t reply. He watched Will’s hand pick up the pace, his thumb teasing over the head of his cock. Merlin licked his lips without thinking. Something stirred in him, but it was weirdly detached, still. He could feel himself begin to react, but in the way catching Fiona and Gregory going at it in the barn one night had been arousing. It was generic. It wasn’t like he wanted to be on the receiving end, which Merlin figured more the point of seeing something arousing and reacting to it. He wasn’t dull. He knew how these things worked now – and he knew how _he_ worked.

He adjusted the front of his trousers and got up.

“See you later,” he muttered, probably long after he was out of earshot of Will, who was probably too preoccupied to even notice Merlin had gone.

* * *

Camelot was big and white and overwhelming. Merlin fell in love with the abundance of sounds and the thickness of the new smells in the air the moment he set foot in the town. He made his way through the crowds, seeing faces of all kinds he’d never encountered in Ealdor. The inside of the castle was something truly incredible, too – her gleaming halls, the knights striding through with red billowing about behind them, the view from his new room in Gaius’s chambers – it was all too good to be true.

It was a risk, given his magic, but Merlin had a good feeling about coming to Camelot. He could start over here. No one was going to give him trouble for being different – so long as no one noticed the differences. He could keep to himself when he needed to, and he could make new friends who didn’t know any of his secrets. He wasn’t going to attract any trouble here.

Then Merlin met Prince Arthur Pendragon, and everything went to hell.

He’d been planning on telling the prat off anyway, but the moment Merlin saw him, he felt himself gravitate toward Arthur. It was like his magic pulled them closer together, until they were invading each other’s spaces, teasing relentlessly with barely veiled threats gathering between them, Merlin feeling like he hadn’t had _this_ much fun in far too long.

He’d thrown Merlin in jail, sure, and then they’d had that fight in the market place, but that’d been the truly unusual part – Merlin didn’t mind taking him on, even after knowing who he was and what he claimed he could do to Merlin. No, it was different, not so much a matter of pride, but of physical exertion, of physical _proximity_. Merely fighting him was enough to get his blood singing in just the right way. Even almost having Arthur take his head off with a mace made him weirdly thrilled. It felt right, somehow, and Merlin couldn’t figure out why.

Merlin went and saved the prince’s life, and there was no hope of letting the incessant thoughts of Arthur Pendragon die away. Arthur quickly became Merlin’s life, and Merlin slowly unraveled the prince. He catalogued the things that made Arthur smile. He learned how to keep from igniting his horrible temper and instead getting Arthur to engage in the banter they both enjoyed so much, even if it was an unspoken mutual feeling. Merlin rapidly learned to admire Arthur for all he could be one day. Granted there was also the giant vengeful dragon living under the castle prattling on about destiny, but Merlin coming to like Arthur wasn’t really by the dragon’s design.

And he knew, somewhere under Arthur’s brusque and well-constructed façade, he cared about Merlin, too. It wasn’t like any normal friendship Merlin ever had. It wasn’t like with Will or any of the other people from Ealdor. Gaius was more of a father figure to Merlin than anything. Gwen was far too lovely to be real, and Morgana – Merlin had never seen anyone like her in his life. His jaw had dropped promptly upon seeing her at the first feast Merlin attended in that fitting red dress.

But Morgana was beautiful rather like seeing a particularly stunning work of art or an unusually striking sunset was beautiful – in a rather objective sort of way. That didn’t make her _less_ incredibly stunning, or any less the most beautiful woman Merlin had ever seen, but it just… he didn’t feel about her the way he knew Will would have – or the way he suspected Arthur did, sometimes.

It didn’t help him feel less alone, even in a place as big and busy as Camelot.

Around Arthur, however, he felt a degree of kinship. It was on a primal and basic level, but it was still very, very new to Merlin. He felt different when he was around Arthur – he felt like he never wanted to leave his presence, because he fit there; he belonged at his side. After a point, he found himself watching Arthur, and the sight of him seemed to tug on a string in the core of his chest. It was still unusual, but Merlin didn’t fight it. It made his magic happy, so he knew better than to resist whatever was going on.

Over the course of several months, Merlin nearly died and Arthur saved him, and more often than not the situation was reversed. With every instance Merlin felt that tug grow stronger and his smiles toward Arthur grow grudgingly warmer. On some days, Merlin could have sworn he saw the same changes behind the looks Arthur gave him. He could never be certain, though, what with the flying tankards and constant verbal abuses, not unless Arthur learned how to use clear communication, and Merlin was willing to bet that’d never happen.

 

* * *

 

From a young age, Arthur’s father taught him to abstain. He taught him not to seek the attentions of the women of the court unnecessarily, and should he find himself in their warpaths, he ought to behave with civility, politeness, and an air of indifference.

“How could indifference be polite?” Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose.

“This is sort of indifference that discourages… inappropriate behaviors for one as young as you, Arthur,” Uther replied.

“I’m fourteen,” he frowned. “I’m hardly young anymore.”

“You are very nearly a knight,” said Uther, “and with that title come both responsibility and attention. I will not have you siring bastards, Arthur. You must restrain yourself so we might find you a suitable consort.”

“I’m—”

“Only fourteen?” Uther said with a wry smile. “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

He ruffled Arthur’s hair and sent him back to training with the knights. It’d taken extra effort to stay focused on his footwork. He’d known all along he shouldn’t get involved with any women at court, but they’d never really crossed his mind.

He caught a glimpse of Sir Bors dousing himself with water, droplets streaming down his sweat-drenched chest. Arthur’s sparring partner nearly landed a blow on him. Arthur took him down with a little too much force.

Arthur forgot entirely about Bors until he was safe in his chambers, lying in bed and unlacing his trousers. He bit his lip, trying to remember the way he’d looked in the glaring sun, but it wasn’t really enough. It was better than thinking of Morgana, who’d taken to the new fashion of dipping necklines a little too heartily.

It wasn’t quite right. He just didn’t want to think of Sir Bors that way, no matter how good he’d looked. He just _couldn’t_ , like something in his mind wouldn’t make the obvious connections between a good-looking man and his cock. He shut his eyes, tried to imagine someone else, _anyone_ else, but no one came to mind. He couldn’t even put together a fantasy of a person, not even a hodgepodge of parts he found attractive, so Arthur just gave up.

He continued stroking his cock lazily until he was nearly fully hard and focused on the building sensations. It took some time – he tried out some other techniques he’d figured out worked for him. When he came, he felt good. His body relaxed and sank into the mattress. Arthur shut his eyes and waited for the room to cool down around him. He still didn’t remember Bors the way he knew he should have. 

He cleaned himself off and climbed back into bed, his heart rate slowly coming down. He snorted when he realized just how pointless his father’s no-bastards talk ended up being. Still, Arthur buried his head in his pillows.

* * *

The years immediately following Arthur’s knighting ceremony were full of polarities, to say the least. Many of his friends from his youth backed away, while others – knights, mostly – stepped in. Arthur knew it was partly out of obligation, partly out of the desire to be close to the Prince of Camelot and gain his favor.

Uther’s predictions about the ladies at court weren’t incorrect: they swarmed him the moment the sword lifted from his shoulder the night of the ceremony. Arthur politely declined their invitations. After a year of politeness, he had to be brusquer with them, claiming nobility and chivalry and duty as his reasons for turning down their offers. Word quickly got around of Camelot’s allegedly celibate prince. By the time Arthur was eighteen, more women approached him with the intention of breaking his vow of abstinence than anything else – apart from the usual desire to have one of his bastard children.

Morgana found it all very amusing.

“Why can’t they just leave me alone?” Arthur groaned, throwing himself back on her bed.

“Because you’re _you_ , Arthur. It doesn’t hurt that you’re rather pretty.”

“Pretty?” he exclaimed. “I am _not_ pretty!”

“You are,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully. “Isn’t he, Gwen?”

Arthur looked at Gwen, who blushed and averted her gaze. It rankled Arthur, curiously.

“It’s not my place to say, my lady.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Arthur won’t mind if you disagree with me.”

“My lady,” she admonished, much to Morgana’s amusement. Morgana laughed and sat at her mirror, allowing Gwen to fit a necklace close around her neck.

Arthur watched them. He looked away quickly the moment he realized how intimate a moment he was witnessing, commonplace as it was. He focused on his hands, wondering what it’d be like to fit a necklace around a woman’s neck, or touch a woman’s body. He didn’t find the idea particularly appealing, especially after so many _offers_ ranging from simple to vulgar bordering on full-blown assault. He shuddered at the memory of Lady Amelia pinning him to the wall and cupping his manhood, demanding entrance to his chambers. He was too glad Morgana had been walking half a hallway behind him.

The thought of touching another man, however – that stirred something in Arthur, something pleasant and distant, not quite concrete, not enough to cause any sort of physical reaction, but it was definitely more appealing than considering a woman in his arms.

Arthur excused himself shortly afterwards. Morgana was again engrossed in Gwen’s sweet smile, and he had training in less than an hour anyway.

* * *

He learned quickly that the best way to deter admirers was to be a standoffish arse. It wasn’t very different from how he usually behaved, really, and it became second nature once he saw how well it worked. He was never rude, only unsavory enough within earshot of his suitors that they usually didn’t get around to propositioning him in the first place. He played the part of the beautiful, unattainable prat of a prince with ease.

Granted, he didn’t realize just how much of a prat he was until he met that boy in the market, who hadn’t even recognized Arthur and his authority over him. He went on talking to him, outright _insulting_ Arthur, as though he didn’t give a damn Arthur was the prince! He’d never encountered anyone so stupid and simultaneously insolent.

Their second meeting was no better, and yet ten times more entertaining than the first. After the fact, after he’d admitted that the boy – Merlin, was it? – was brave, even for a fool, he realized he was coming down from a high. He found himself missing the energy arguing with Merlin and sparring with him had given him. At the end of a particularly stressful day, when Arthur found himself reaching for his cock, suddenly he wasn’t thinking of nothing – he was catching glimpses of a dimpled smile, plate-sized ears, and blue eyes sparkling with mischief and determination. It wasn’t quite enough to be Merlin, per se, but after Merlin saved his life and became his servant, it was hard to ignore the pattern in his nighttime trains of thought.

Arthur found himself trusting Merlin too quickly. It was utterly embarrassing, completely disregarding how much of a fool he’d made himself out to be by going on Merlin’s word. No one got under Arthur’s skin so easily. _No one_. Yet he believed Merlin. He found himself rushing off against his father’s orders to find a tiny plant and save Merlin’s life. He defended Merlin in front of the whole court when he made an arse of himself, claiming his manservant’s love for the Gwen. Something in the pit of Arthur’s stomach hadn’t liked saying those words, but it hardly mattered. It was all to keep Merlin from getting himself burnt to a crisp.

It seemed like Arthur was doing quite a lot to keep Merlin from dying, but Merlin apparently was doing the same for him. It was just about the only truly even give and take in their relationship. Arthur found he didn’t mind it, found he wished they had that in other parts of their deeply entwined lives. He discovered he rather wanted it to be a proper friendship, something he hadn’t had since before he became a knight. But Uther was watching, and there was little Arthur could do about his desire to be closer to Merlin while he watched.

It wasn’t quite a _desire_ , the sort of which Uther would ultimately disapprove, but it was something. It was a tangibly different feeling. He wanted to unravel his manservant, to see him for all he was, the way Merlin knew to do with him with scary accuracy, but Merlin was both an open book and a secretive man. Going to Ealdor with him proved to Arthur there was much to Merlin Arthur didn’t know or understand. It made him more curious, but it also made him warm. It made him want to be warm with Merlin in a way his position as his prince and master wouldn’t allow.

The death of Merlin’s sorcerer friend temporarily put all unusual thoughts of warmth and closeness out of Arthur’s mind, but it also drove Merlin away from Arthur for over a week. Merlin’s absence only made it clearer how much Arthur came to depend on Merlin and his constant cheer. He simply didn’t like seeing Merlin upset, or seeing him keep Arthur at arm’s length, even if he was mourning. Arthur had the cook make extra sweetbread – Merlin’s favorite treat – and had it sent up to Merlin and Gaius. At the sight of Merlin smiling at him again the next day the knot in Arthur’s chest relaxed, radiating warmth down to his fingertips.

It was different, but it was good, and since Merlin wasn’t going anywhere, neither was this, whatever _this_ was.

* * *

“You like him, don’t you?” Morgana said with a cat-like grin.

“What are you on about?” Arthur asked wearily. She was leaning on the wall by the doorway.

“Is he here?”

“Who?”

“Merlin.”

“He’s with Gaius right now.”

“Good,” Morgana said. She sat down on Arthur’s left.

“I’m busy,” he said, waving at the parchment on the table. She gave him a hard look. “What is it?” he finally asked.

“I already told you. You like Merlin,” she said. Her smile softened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s fine, you know. No bastards to worry about. Uther doesn’t even have to know. You’re both attached at the hip anyway, so there’d really be no difference from the usual—”

“Morgana,” he interrupted. “It’s… it’s not so simple.”

“Sure it is. Just kiss him.”

The idea had crossed his mind more than once, but something always stopped him.

“It’d just be sex,” she said calmly. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“Whoa. We just went from kissing to _sex_.”

“It’s a rather logical progression,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“No! Not – Morgana, listen – I… yes. I like Merlin. I like him quite a lot. But what I feel for him… isn’t like that. It’s different.”

“So… you like him, but you don’t want to bed him?”

“Exactly,” Arthur said with a sigh of relief. “Yes. Exactly that.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“I just… don’t, alright? I don’t want to. Why is that such a foreign concept?”

“Arthur, honey, I understand Uther beat abstinence into your head since you were in the cradle, but wanting sex is nothing to fear or be ashamed of.”

“I know,” he snapped. She glared at him. “Sorry. Yes. I am aware of this, Morgana, but I just don’t work like that, for some reason unknown to me.”

She looked at him curiously, eyes narrowing.

“You’ve never…?”

“No.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“No. Not now at least,” Arthur sighed. He curled his shaking hands and shoved them under the table and out of sight.

The thought of having sex with Merlin was certainly a pleasing one. Arthur didn’t want to discount it completely, but at the moment, it just wasn’t something he wanted. He simply didn’t desire Merlin that way, even if he felt he someday could.

“Then what do you want?” she asked. She sounded less harsh now, more curious than anything.

“I don’t know.”

Arthur knew very well.

“But I do want you to leave,” he added. Morgana scowled, but she rose smoothly and made for the door.

“I hope you get what you want, whatever that is,” she added before disappearing in a flutter of colored silks.

 

* * *

 

Merlin returned to Arthur’s chambers just in time to see Morgana disappear around the corner.

“What did Morgana want?” he asked, pointing at the door.

“Nothing, Merlin.”

“Is everything alright?”

Arthur had messed up his hair beyond belief in the last two hours. Merlin absently smoothed it down before he realized Arthur was watching him.

“Sorry?”

“It’s… fine.”

Arthur stood up abruptly.

“Merlin. Have you ever loved someone?”

Merlin stared at Arthur, who watched him with so much intensity, Merlin thought he might crumble and scatter on the floor in a pile of dust.

“Have I ever… loved someone?”

“Yes,” Arthur said brusquely.

“Like… my mother? Or a friend? Or… as lovers do?”

The words sounded awkward coming out of Merlin’s mouth.

“Yes. That,” Arthur nodded, looking curiously equally awkward.

“You won’t laugh, will you?” Merlin blurted.

“No! Gods above, no. I understand this is an unusually personal question—”

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said quickly. “I never have. Why are you asking this? Has it to do with Morgana?”

“Not like that.”

“Oh. I mean – she’s very beautiful. I’d understand why you’d—”

“Oh, _gods_ , no. She’s a sister to me,” Arthur said, his eyes widening comically. Merlin bit his lip to hold in a laugh. Arthur’s gaze dropped to Merlin’s mouth. He felt his skin heat up under the attention. “I… it was a silly question. Go do your chores.”

Arthur drew back and made for the door, but Merlin, in a fit of madness or bravery or both, caught Arthur by the arm and held him back.

“I – I love you, you know,” Merlin said. Arthur turned around sharply. Merlin’s whole body flooded with warmth, but he wasn’t about to back down now. “If that’s what you were really asking.”

Merlin felt about ten bales of weight lift off his chest and shoulders the moment the words left his mouth. Finally – _finally_ – he’d put a name to the feeling he had for Arthur that had been steadily growing and changing and metamorphosing over the last year he’d been in Camelot.

Arthur looked at him a little madly, which meant Merlin was smiling his too-happy smile again. He quickly reined himself in and took half a step back.

“Was that out of line, sire?” he said, going for apologetic.

He expected a retort, or maybe a friendly slap, but he didn’t expect Arthur to take a whole step forward, nearly barreling Merlin over, only to catch Merlin in his arms and hold him tight, enveloping him in Arthur’s warmth, which his magic instantly _loved_. Merlin sighed and relaxed into the hug, tightening his hold on Arthur’s waist and fitting his head into the space next to Arthur’s neck. His heart pounded, but he could feel Arthur’s heart pounding too.

“I’m fond of you too, you know,” Arthur said almost too softly to hear. Merlin laughed. Arthur held on a little more tightly.

Merlin drew back enough to look at Arthur. He pushed Arthur’s golden hair off his forehead again, letting himself touch his face, trace the contours of his cheekbones and jaw, feel the stubble under the pads of his fingers. His lips were soft and pliant as Merlin touched them with his fingertips. He smiled.

“Enjoying yourself?” Arthur murmured. He ran a hand up and down Merlin’s back.

“Yeah,” Merlin grinned.

“Can… can I kiss you?” Arthur asked. Anxiety flashed across his face, his body tensing in Merlin’s arms.

“I’ve never—”

“Me neither,” Arthur admitted.

“Why not?” Merlin asked.

“There was never anyone I wanted to kiss or touch like this,” he said.

“Same,” Merlin breathed, his heart racing, Merlin knowing deep in his core that Arthur, of all people, understood in a way no one else ever had. If he hadn’t loved him before, he certainly did now, and he saw it reflected right back at him.

He leaned in and kissed Arthur. It was soft and light and short, but it was more than enough. It said everything Merlin couldn’t really say aloud. Arthur seemed to understand anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> In this story I'm envisioning Arthur as more gray-A, or demisexual, while Merlin would be gray-A or simply asexual. Both I wrote as somewhat homoromantic, though certainly toward the aro end of the romantic spectrum. As someone who identifies on the asexual spectrum I went mostly off personal experience in writing this story, so if I got anything drastically wrong in these portrayals (as I don't identify as all of these things), I'm happy to make adjustments.


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